A Brief History of Mitt
by Scarlet-1
Summary: The story of Andrew's beloved oven mitt. Written for Katie who wanted to know how the Mitt came to be...


  
  
Creation. Birth. In the beginning there is always darkness. At least this is what my First Carrier told me. I don't know the day of my birth. I don't know the place of my nativity. But I knew my First Carrier.  
  
I'd always known I was different, the only feeling being among the unanimated. No one knew my pain. No one knew my worth. No one until Him. My Carrier gave me purpose. He set my destiny in motion. From the first painful thrust into my soft depths, my Carrier taught me who was the master. But in the beginning, in the dark, that was what I craved. Hanging among others of my own kind, knowing I alone held autonomy. I wanted to be claimed, used, brought from the darkness into the light. It was then that I saw him.  
  
His voice was so different from the other Handlers that had so causally pawed me. He was taller, darker. He sensed my sentient nature and I knew he would be my First. I waited, impatient with the blush of youth and 'first times,' as I was carried through the place that had never been my home into the paper depths of an unliving Handler. Eons later, or perhaps hours, I was Filled for the first time.  
  
"You should be grateful I found you," he drawled, in a voice so different from those of my First Handlers. "A 'lesser' buyer would never have seen your worth." His voice was ominous and filled with promises of the bitter pleasure he would introduce me to. And introduce me he did. My First Carrier was a fickle master, bestowing blinding pleasure and scorching pain in equal measure. I hated him. I worshiped him. In him I learned subordination, pleasure, pain.  
  
My First Carrier.  
  
"Tell me, friend. Do you fancy a holiday?" he asked me one day over steaming trays of magic herbs and organs. "I believe Ripper is in need of a good companion. He'd really get a kick out of you." By then I had grown familiar with his bitter sarcasm.  
  
In days I was packed, enclosed in a stifling substance and set adrift without apparent destination. My First Carrier had bound me and abandoned me. The betrayal cut deep. My Master. My Carrier. My Only. I had been forsaken.  
  
...  
  
It is said that one can know no pleasure until one has know pain. Well I had known pain. And, commensurate to that pain, I learned pleasure. My new Carrier was light where my First was dark. In my depths he found protection and I would seek only to encourage that protection.  
  
"Good heavens! Why in the world would Ethan send me an oven mitt for my birthday?" My no-longer-new Carrier asked on the day we were joined. I didn't completely understand his words, but his voice carried every message I'd ever need to hear.  
  
His voice was like liquid wisdom, scholarly and wise, yet his hands told me he was more than that. My Wise Carrier had scars. He had been hurt and I felt his pain when he slid into me. All I wanted was to take his pain and give him pleasure, but his pride would not allow it.  
  
So I served. In humility, I served. I had no other master and I would seek no other master, but I was far from content. My life was this everyday, servitude without satisfaction. But there was pleasure, and that was enough.  
  
My Wise Carrier and I were together many cycles before the Day. Content with our solitary lives, I was surprised to find myself one afternoon Filled by Another.  
  
"Oh, Giles! Doesn't it look perfect?" Smaller, female. I reveled in her unique feel-smooth skin and sharp nails. She used me to lift an enormous turkey from it's heated home. Never had I been allowed this gift. I was flattered. Overwhelmed. But my delight was short-lived.  
  
There was chaos there that day. I know chaos, have been firmly introduced to the concept by my First Carrier. Before I knew what was happening, there were many men with many sharp weapons. The air was no longer filled with the blissful scents of cooking food but with the odors of blood and sweat and the bitter pleasure of revenge. I knew of battle and of grudges and there was little I could do but remain passive and hidden until the battle was over. All things have an end. This, I learned from my Wise Carrier.  
  
Eventually the battle did end. My Carrier would live another day and so I was grateful. I prepared myself to join my quilted cousins on the pegs that had been assigned us, but my expectations were thwarted. I was lifted; plunged into another unliving Handler and swept from the place I had thought might be my home.  
  
I wept inwardly. My Wise Carrier was left behind.  
  
...  
  
For many cycles I was alone in the dark. I was surrounded by others that looked like me, but who did not recognized my true self. I lived for the day my Female Carriers-I say Carriers because they were many-would use me, let me serve them, give me a purpose. But these days were few and far between. I lived in the darkened depths and waited.  
  
My life was not hard, but it was a solitary one. I had little purpose; these women had little use for me for many cycles. Alone I stayed. Alone I waited. Waiting. Waiting for my Special Carrier, the one I knew would come and see my worth. The one that would fill me, know me, in that most intimate of ways. I had all but given up hope until that day, that special day.  
  
Patiently I had waited in the depths of a drawer. All was darkness until...  
  
...  
  
"Do you expect me to take muffins out of the oven without one?" a shrill voice sounded through the drawer.  
  
"Try the left one...and don't mess them up!" my original Female Carrier said.  
  
And then there was light.  
  
"Hey there, little mitt! Can I use you?" The greatest of all Carriers lifted me from the drawer and stared at my soft surface. "You're cool!"  
  
Heaven. I was in heaven. Slim and slight, this new Handler just stood there looking at me.  
  
"We've gotta get muffins so hungry Potential Slayers can keep their strength up and save the world. Do you think you can handle that?"  
  
Could I handle that? It was what I was born to do. My higher purpose...with Him by my side. He breathed deep and then slipped his hand into me. The pleasure was exquisite. Together we prepared the food that would save the world. My life did have a design...a destiny...I could hardly contain my excitement.  
  
When the food was prepared, when the female Handlers were gone and we were no longer needed, my Special Carrier made a place for me in his bed.  
  
"Don't tell anyone, okay?" he whispered. "They wouldn't understand, but I do."  
  
I could have cried. I could have laughed. If I had a mouth or eyes I would have done both. Instead, I let him slip inside me once again.  
  
...  
  
That was many cycles ago. We have fought many battles together, my Special Carrier and I. There was the Ginger Snap Battle and the Bananasuit battle and countless others that I can hardly remember now. I remember a great and final battle—the almost-end of the world—but my Special Carrier has protected me through it all. Other mitts might be astonished at my tenacity in the face of such obstacles, but I don't think there is anything special about what I've endured. Knowing that in the end I found what I was searching for has made it all worthwhile.  
  
I know I have found my rightful place. I'm with my Special Carrier.  
  
I am home. 


End file.
